


A Couple of Kids

by katrinawritesthings



Series: Homeless au [1]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Brotp, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: so like high school au where kibum's parents kick him out and he doesn't tell anyone except taemin“Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Taemin asks casually during fifth period Psychology.“I can’t, sorry,” Kibum says. “Nicole and I have the same Lit project due on Friday so I’m gonna spend the night at hers instead.” He shrugs like he’s declining a simple offer to hang out instead of what they both know it really was.tumblrtw for u know homelessness and mentions of abusive parents





	1. Chapter 1

Kibum comes to him first. **  
**

Taemin knows he’s the first because it’s 9:34 on a Thursday night, Kibum taps on his bedroom window, and he has a duffle bag pulled over his shoulder.

Taemin had been eating graham crackers and watching anime in bed when the knock came, and he’d been reasonably confused, but he’d let Kibum in anyway. As he watches Kibum wiggle over the windowsill, he takes note of how he’s wearing several layers of everything and how his little VW bug is parked out on the street.

“Hey,” he says when Kibum straightens up and tugs off a beanie or three.

“Hey,” Kibum smiles back, unwrapping a few scarves from around his neck like this is completely normal. “Can I spend the night?” he asks. “Or, the weekend?” He coils his scarves up neatly and tosses them and the beanies on Taemin’s Chair of Stuff in the corner. Taemin glances at his left cheek where he has hastily applied makeup over a slightly swollen spot and then back to his eyes. There’s something as off in them as the rest of this situation.

“Sure,” he shrugs, pushing Kibum’s bag closer to the wall gently with his foot. It rustles with the sounds of makeup and jewelry and coins. “Why didn’t you come through the front door?” he asks curiously. Kibum looks up from where he’s wiggling out of a few pairs of sweats and shorts.

“I didn’t feel like bugging your parents,” he shrugs. Taemin hums knowingly. Good point. It is kind of late. They can officially ask if he can spend the weekend tomorrow after school. “Hey, you know that extra backpack in your closet?” Kibum asks then. Taemin glances at his closet quickly and nods. It’s his shitty old one from middle school that he doesn’t even know why he still keeps. “Can I borrow it?” Kibum asks.

“You can have it,” Taemin says. He really doesn’t care. Kibum makes a noise, almost a protest, but he’s smiling again when Taemin turns back to him with a curious hum.

“Thanks,” he says quickly. Taemin nods again, taking a few steps back to sit on his bed and watch as Kibum unbuttons four or five shirts and folds them all neatly. He gets settled like he was before, bundled up in his blankets and everything, except on the right side of his bed instead of in the middle this time. Kibum heads to his closet and tugs the backpack off of the shelf Taemin had thrown it on. He walks back to his duffle and bends down to unzip it, then pulls out a bunch of stuff to transfer to the smaller bag. His makeup bags, his jewelry boxes, a bag full of coins and a wad of cash, brush and comb, toothbrush toothpaste and floss picks, body wash and shampoo, his hair straightener, phone charger, various snacks, and on. Then he fits all of his clothes in the now empty space next to what clothes were already in there.

When he’s done, he zips both up and pushes them even more out of the way. He’d had his pajamas under all of those clothes and he fluffs his fingers through his chalk dyed bangs with a satisfied little hum.

“There,” he says, straightening up brightly. He bounces over to Taemin’s bed and wiggles under the blankets with him, taking a graham cracker for himself and peering nosily at the laptop screen like usual. “What are we watching?” he asks.

“Swimming anime,” Taemin says, wiping a speck of dust off of beautiful Nagisa’s face. Kibum rolls his eyes and shifts to get more comfortable with his head against Taemin’s shoulder. He first nuzzles his cheek against Taemin’s shirt, but then hisses in pain and moves to rest his temple there instead. Taemin gives him his right earbud and sticks the left in his own ear, tapping the spacebar to start where he left off.

He’s not going to ask.

He can guess what happened anyway. It’s not like it’s not obvious. Taemin knows who Kibum is, knows who his parents are, knows that they one hundred percent to not approve of the kind of person that their kid became. He saw Kibum’s post about an hour ago that said nothing but “fuck it i’m gonna do it.” It’s not hard to put all of the evidence together. And Kibum obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so Taemin’s not going to bring it up.

“How do you not have any napkins?” Kibum grumbles, reaching over Taemin for a tissue from his bedside table to catch his crumbs in. Taemin snorts. The tissues _are_ his napkins. He flicks a graham cracker crumb at Kibum’s neck and ignores his indignant squawk in favor of focusing on his swimming anime boys instead. Kibum settles after a minute and does the same.

In the morning, Kibum scoots into Taemin’s bathroom after him, does his makeup up all nice and pretty, and throws another stuffed bag into the backseat of his car so Taemin can ride shotgun on the way to school.

~

“Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Taemin asks casually during fifth period Psychology. He props his cheek up in his hand so he doesn’t fall asleep from the cozy warmth of the heated air, such a nice contrast to the snow falling outside. Kibum glances up from where he’s scribbling down the homework in his planner.

“I can’t, sorry,” he says. “Nicole and I have the same Lit project due on Friday so I’m gonna spend the night at hers instead.” He shrugs like he’s declining a simple offer to hang out instead of what they both know it really was. Still, though. Taemin hums. That’s a relief. He knows for a fact that Kibum hasn’t landed a friend’s place to stay at every single night in the passed month. He has a lot of friends, but sometimes luck just isn’t on his side. Taemin still feels guilty about the one time he had to turn Kibum down because his brother was having his girlfriend over for dinner.

“Well, if you’re free, let me know,” Taemin shrugs. He doesn’t want Kibum to have back problems from sleeping in his car again added onto all of the other shit he’s dealing with. He would be offering his bed every night if he thought Kibum wouldn’t get annoyed at him for it. He treads carefully, though, stroking Kibum’s pride, only offering every now and again like he would normally.

Kibum did come over just last Saturday, which Taemin guesses was recently enough. It wasn’t to spend the night, though; just to hang out and almost casually switch some clothes with the duffle bag that Taemin moved into his closet before he went to crash at Woohyun’s. Taemin took the liberty of hanging up some of his nicer winter clothes so they would be less wrinkled, which he knows that Kibum appreciates even if he did scoff at the lazy way he did it and spend ten minutes rehanging them all the proper way.

Taemin doesn’t know exactly why it is that Kibum has only told him. Maybe it’s because he’s usually so quiet about everything. Maybe Kibum just thinks he’s super trustworthy or something. They have been friends for five years, ever since art class in seventh grade. But of their close friends, he knows that Kibum spends more time with Jonghyun, and he knows that Minho definitely has more to offer in terms of both space and time, and he knows that Jinki is far more responsible than he is. Still, he hasn’t asked. Kibum has his reasons. And he’s a good friend. If he was the best person in Kibum’s mind to come to, Taemin isn’t going to go out of his way to prove him wrong.

~

It’s honestly fucking astounding how loud Taemin’s bathroom shower is when he’s not the one inside of it. He watches the door, amazed at how he can hear every rush and splash of the water as Kibum showers. It’s only loud in his room, too; he checked if he could hear it standing on the other side of his bedroom door and it was as muffled as showers usually are, which is good. It’s just… weird. To not be the one in there for once.

As he’s listening to the shower, he also hears Kibum sniffling grossly for the umpteenth time. It’s followed by two sneezes, the clatter of what sounds like Kibum’s tiny face cream container, and a barely audible hissed curse, and Taemin rolls his eyes. Holy shit.

The water turns off a few minutes later and Kibum steps out a while after that, towel hung over the heater to dry and dirty clothes folded neatly over his arm. He throws Taemin a quick smile as he tucks his clothes into his bag. Taemin looks him up and down appraisingly. Hmm. Blowdried hair, thick socks, his warm pajamas, and a loose beanie. Good.

“Here,” he says when Kibum comes up to join him in bed. He picks up the little medicine cup he went out to the kitchen to get earlier and holds it out. “There’s little tongue strips or a nyquil.” He couldn’t remember if Kibum could swallow pills or not so he just got both.

“Oh,” Kibum says, his voice thick with his congestion. “No, I’m good,” he mumbles, waving Taemin away. Taemin just looks at him for a moment.

“You are not getting me sick just because you want to pretend like your life is fine right now,” he says bluntly. Kibum winces and glares at him  but Taemin holds out the cup insistently anyway. “Take the medicine,” he commands. “It’s not like I wouldn’t give it to you regularly anyway.” He shrugs. That’s like. Half true. Technically, he would never need to give medicine to a sick friend because a sick friend wouldn’t be spending the night, but also, if a friend did happen to get sick around him, he wouldn’t not help them. Kibum hesitates for a moment more, than sighs shortly and snatches the little strip packets out of Taemin’s hand.

Taemin puts the cup with the pill in it back on his bedside table gratefully. Good. Now Kibum won’t be sniffling every five seconds anymore and they’ll be able to sleep and then go to school tomorrow with enough rest.

Taemin frowns at his last thought, looking back up to Kibum. School. Ugh.

“You really shouldn’t be going to school like this,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, right, let me just ask my fucking dad to call me in sick,” Kibum snaps. His voice is harsh and sharp and Taemin blinks, taken aback at the suddenness of it. Shit.

“I didn’t--mean it like that,” he says, rubbing his nose embarrassedly as Kibum takes a few sips from his water bottle to wash the medicine down. “Just,” he says. That it sucks. That he can’t do that, that he can’t give the school an excuse for needing a break... but obviously, Kibum has been bitter about that for a while already. “Why don’t you just… skip tomorrow?” he asks. “You can stay here and use my laptop.” He doesn’t mind. It’s not like his parents are home during school hours anyway. “I think it’s like, five days in a row without an excuse before you’re considered truant.” It’s just a little cold. He can get better before that easily. Kibum scoffs, though, shaking his head.

“So, what, the school calls my parents and tells them I didn’t show up?” he asks. “I bet that will make their day, that I’m fucking floundering on my own.” He yanks Taemin’s blankets down so he can wiggle into the bed with him, but pulls them up to his chin and curls up into a grumpy ball. Taemin sighs, pushing his hair out of his face.

“That’s not…,” he starts. That’s not the point. A few days missed because of a cold isn’t _floundering_. And the imagined opinions of his parents aren’t worth risking his health over. “Like,” he says. “You don’t--”

“Taemin, can you just--” Kibum says loudly, but his words get cut off by a gross sounding cough. He muffles it into his pajama collar and pops back up when he’s done with a tired groan. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters. “I’m sick and cold and you’re stressing me out.” His words are clear but the little fingers he curls into the edge of the blanket are guilty and pleading. Taemin looks at him for a silent moment before snorting and shaking his head.

“Nice excuse,” he mumbles, wiggling to get comfortable and turning his desk lamp off. He’ll wake up early tomorrow, make some honey lemon tea or something for Kibum to sip throughout the day, and make him take more medicine before they leave. At the very least.

~

“Oh my god. Finally.” Taemin looks up from the manual of the game he bought earlier at Jonghyun’s voice. His friend is hopping off of the low wall and stretching, his usual wide smile back on his face as he watches his sister’s van putt into the dark parking lot of the mall. Taemin grins. Good. Jonghyun had been overhyping his hunger for the past, like, ten minutes. It stopped being funny after three. He tosses his game back into his bag while almost everyone else in their little mall group stands up as well: Amber, Yeri, Krystal, Sooyoung, Other Jonghyun. Kibum stays on the wall, but scoots closer to Taemin now that they’re the only two left.

“See you guys Monday,” he says, waving big at all of them. Taemin nods, waving small.

“You sure you two don’t wanna come?” Jonghyun asks, opening the back door so the others can climb in. “We’re going to get dinner at McDonald’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows invitingly. Taemin snorts.

“We’re leaving with my bro when he gets off work,” he says. “We’re gonna get free leftover cinnamon rolls.” They’ll be cold and kind of stale, but still. Free. And he can smother his in the free leftover glaze packets also. Kibum nods easily next to him with an agreeing hum. Jonghyun shrugs, hopping into the passenger seat himself.

“Alright, then,” he says. “Later.” He shuts the door and Taemin waves again as everyone else waves back until they’re out of the parking lot. Then he stretches his arms himself, yawning into his elbow. “Wanna go sit in Hollister until my bro calls?” he asks Kibum. Taesun’s shift doesn’t end for another forty minutes and he can’t take a nap out here in the cold. Kibum hops off of the wall and hikes his bag more over his shoulder.

“Actually, I wanted to go to Target for a little bit,” he says. Taemin blinks.

“Why Target?” he asks. “You go to Target for like. Toothpaste and cotton balls and--oh.” He rubs his nose as he realizes that that is exactly why Kibum wants and _needs_ to go to Target. “Okay,” he says simply. He doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he had to ask such an obvious question. Kibum seems to share his sentiment, because he acts like Taemin didn’t even say anything other than “okay.” He flashes Taemin his regular smile and tugs him back into the mall, the only indication that his pride took a hit in the way he clutches the strap of his bag more tightly than usual.

Taemin is hit with that wave of productivity he always gets when he walks into Target as soon as he steps over the threshold. He guesses that’s what happens when he usually only comes here to get school supplies and cheap bodywash. He scoots over to the little bins of dollar things, inspecting the little toys and pens. Kibum comes over while Taemin is inspecting a pretty cute set of pink nail files. He shows Kibum the box; after a moment of consideration, Kibum takes it and tosses it in his basket.

When they set off deeper into the store, Taemin sticks to Kibum’s side and lets him lead. He doesn’t know where anything is in here; half the time he gets lost at the smaller target by their school. Kibum wanders to the hygiene aisle first. He walks down the shelves, checking a list on his phone every so often and lowkey squinting at price tags. Taemin shuffles along behind him as he collects an assortment of things: powdered shampoo, floss, deodorant, baby powder, an eyeliner pencil of a brand that Taemin remembers him scoffing at before. He swats Kibum’s hand away from a bag of cotton balls and tosses a bag of cotton rounds in his basket instead.

“There are more in there and two sides each, like, doubles it for the same price,” he shrugs. “Also I see coupons for them all the time.” Kibum hums vaguely in thanks and tugs him to the food aisles next. There he gets little packets of powdered emonade and ramen, and then Taemin loses track of him for a few minutes because he spots a section of his favorite chips and immediately zooms over there to inspect them all. His dad always says they got discontinued. He’s such a fucking liar. Taemin grabs three bags and hugs them to his chest protectively before he realizes that Kibum has wandered off without him.

He powerwalks passed the aisles in search of his friend; he finds him in the laundry section and skids to a halt. Aha. Kibum gives him the most judgemental look when he oh-so-casually tips his chips into the basket but doesn’t comment. Instead, he frowns between two boxes.

“What do you think, Generic One or Generic Two?” he asks. He holds up the boxes to show Taemin the different laundry detergents. Taemin looks between them slowly, and then at the box of fabric softeners in the basket. This seems… not right.

“I… have a laundry machine,” he says slowly. Kibum’s next breath catches such a small amount that if Taemin didn’t know him as well as he did he wouldn't have caught it.

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Kibum says. “Which one?” he wiggles the boxes again; Taemin reaches inside and picks up the fabric softeners to read the back.

“And you’re leaving most of your clothes at my place anyway,” he says. “I can--”

“No, I don’t--need you to,” Kibum says shortly. Taemin looks up into his eyes.

“It’s like five dollars for one load at the laundromat,” he says quietly. “Plus how much it takes to dry. Plus gas to get there.”

“I know that,” Kibum says. “Just--” he reaches for the fabric softeners but Taemin jerks them out of reach.

“You can use mine,” he says firmly.

“No, Taemin, I don’t--fucking--just let me do this on my own, I don’t need--”

 _“Kibum,_ ” Taemin says. He tosses the box onto a random shelf and puts his hands on Kibum’s shoulders. “I get it.”

“You don’t know--”

“I understand the concept,” Taemin says. Yeah, he doesn’t know from firsthand experience, but he knows his friend. “I know you’re trying to do this as much on your own as possible. I know you’re trying to prove your parents wrong even though you haven’t even seen them since it happened. I know you feel guilty getting so much from me already. I _know_ you don’t want to ask for more help.” He slides his hands down to hold Kibum’s wrists. Kibum is glaring at him, jaw clenched. Taemin keeps going. “I know that you don’t technically _need_ me to do this for you. But, Kibum. I _want_ to help you. _Let_ me do this for you.” He gently tugs the boxes out of Kibum’s hands and puts them back on the shelves as well. “Please,” he adds. “Swallow your pride for this one thing and wash your dirty ass boxers at my place.”

Kibum is taking slow, heavy breaths through his nose as he glares at Taemin. If this were any other time, Taemin would be extremely fucking intimidated. Now, he holds Kibum’s gaze evenly for so long that people would start to think they were weird, if there was actually anyone in the laundry section of a mall Target at 8:30 on a Friday. It’s a long, long time until Kibum releases a heavy breath through his mouth and tugs his wrists away from Taemin’s hands.

“You say that like you think I have any pride left,” he snaps. Taemin sighs and rubs his hand over the back of his neck.

“Well, just because you don’t think…,” he mumbles back. “I can’t even make myself a real breakfast in the morning and your grades are better than mine.” He’ll be every ounce of Kibum’s pride if he needs it, but he knows Kibum has pride left. Just because it’s buried under a mountain of stress it doesn’t mean it’s not there. Kibum shakes his head, but he snatches up the detergent and dryer sheets and returns them to their right shelves.

“I’m just agreeing with you because I don’t want to start fucking crying in the middle of a Target,” Kibum tells him as he grabs his sleeve to yank him to the next aisle. Taemin shrugs. They’ll talk more and he’ll admit that he’s grateful and Taemin will apologize for putting him on the spot like that in a few days or so. They’ll be good.

“My bro has debate club on Wednesdays,” he says. “And you know my parents don’t come home until late. You can come over then.” 

“Fine,” Kibum says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wanna go to prom,” Kibum says heavily. “I wanna go to this half-ass junior prom because fuck knows I’m not going to have an extra hundred and something dollars next year to blow on senior prom and I want to have fun at prom and I don’t want to fucking–I don’t wanna talk about this right now because I don’t wanna fucking cry ten minutes before I go to prom, okay?”  
> “You can’t avoid all of your problems with that excuse,” Taemin mumbles.  
> [tumblr](http://katrinawritesthings.tumblr.com/post/157198373349/taeminkibum-a-couple-of-kids-part-22-pg)
> 
> **still tw for homelessness nd mentions of abusive parents**

****“Thank fuck they started selling tickets in January,” Kibum mutters as he primps himself in Taemin’s bedroom mirror. He glances at where Taemin is lounging in bed with his anime boyfriends with a grin. “Could you imagine if this junior prom didn’t have _me_ to make the whole thing worth going to?” He focuses back on himself, fixing his hair and inspecting his makeup for touchups. Taemin smiles, amused at how excited he is. He’d gotten the ticket as a present from his parents barely two weeks before he first showed up at Taemin’s place with all of his stuff. Taemin is glad that he’s able to go. He shifts uncomfortably, though, fixing his pajama sleeve and tugging his bag of chips closer. **  
**

“Where are you going to stay this summer?” he asks quietly. Kibum’s hand slows its attempts to get his hair to swoosh just right over his forehead. Taemin rubs his thumb over his knuckles uncertainly. “Because,” he says, “you can’t… stay here. Every day.”

“Taemin….”

“And half the people you know are gonna graduate, and go to college, or on vacation--”

“Taemin.”

“Or you just won’t be able to keep in touch with as many--”

 _“Taemin,”_ Kibum repeats loudly. He turns from the mirror to face Taemin, fingers gripping winkles into his suit cuffs. “Can you, like. Not. Start this shit twenty minutes before I leave for prom?” He notices what he’s doing to his sleeves and hisses, lifting them up to smooth them out. “I’m dealing with it.”

“No you’re not.”

“Well, I’m gonna deal with it later,” Kibum mumbles. Taemin huffs. That’s what he said last week when Taemin brought it up casually.

“School ends in a month, Kibum,” Taemin says. Kibum winces and spends too long fixing up his sleeves.

“I know that,” he says eventually. “I’m just--”

“You should tell Jinki.”

“I--what?” Kibum looks back up, eyes wide. Taemin wiggles into a straighter sitting position, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s thought about it a lot.

“You know he’s most likely going to the community college,” he says. “And if somehow he doesn’t do that, he’s going to get a job at the pet shelter that Jonghyun works at.” Either way, he’s gonna be staying in town. “And his parents are doing their annual ‘leave him alone all summer to go on vacation without him’ thing. You can spend a lot of time with him this summer. And probably as much time as you spend with me when school starts again.” He holds one of his small pillows in his arms as he watches Kibum think about his words. Kibum looks conflicted, one hand picking at the nail polish of the other, mouth opening and closing several times like he can’t figure out where to start speaking. When he does, it’s in a small, quiet voice.

“I--like,” he says. “I mean. _Just_ Jinki?” he asks. “Like, I don’t think, like. And. _When,_ like, I’m not--”

“I think, now,” Taemin says quietly. “Before you leave.”

 _“Now?_ ” Kibum asks incredulously. “I’m leaving in, like, _now_ ,” he says. “I was supposed to be out there a minute ago to take pictures and everything.” He gestures at Taemin’s bedroom door, where the other three and Taemin’s parents are all waiting for Kibum to finish “touching up.” Like he wasn’t in here for at least ten minutes before this conversation started. Taemin sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

“Look,” he says, “just, tell him you want to ask him something later, and then later when you all come back here and the other two are fighting over what movie to watch we can all talk about it. Like, set up a hangout next weekend or something.” He nods eagerly at his own plan. They can all go out for ice cream and talk about summer. It’s not as depressing when it’s stated that simply. Kibum looks at him, almost runs his fingers through his hair, rubs the back of his neck instead.

“Taemin, I don’t even want to talk to _you_ about it, I’m so fucking- _-fucked up,_ about _everything.”_

“Well, I mean,” Taemin says as Kibum glares at him.”That’s kind of the point.” No amount of Kibum getting all huffy about his pride and avoiding his problems will make his problems go away. Talking to Jinki probably won’t solve them either, but it’ll be a help that he definitely needs. Kibum is doing his hesitation thing before he speaks again; before he finishes, there’s a knock on Taemin’s door.

“Are you two decent or whatever?” Jinki’s voice asks. Taemin glances quickly at Kibum to see him glancing back; just as quickly, they both call out “yeah” at the same time. Taemin manages to fix his expression back to lazy and sleepy and Kibum returns to inspecting himself in the mirror. They share another look in the glass before Jinki opens the door and steps in. “Are you almost done yet, dude?” he asks Kibum, coming further in to straighten his little bowtie for him. “Jong’s getting whiny about needing to send his mom pictures of all of us.” Kibum nods, straightens up, turns to face Jinki fully.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says. He smiles. Taemin cocks a brow at how natural it looks. He always knew Kibum would be a good actor. Though, he’s had to be these past few months, Taemin supposes. Hmm. Jinki smiles back and reaches for Kibum’s elbow to tug him out; Kibum stays put, feet rooted to the carpet, jerking a little at Jinki’s pull. Jinki turns back, and Taemin tilts his head, both of them confused. “Um,” Jinki says, and glances at Taemin. Taemin shrugs. Kibum kind of just stands there, the same smile on his lips, but as the seconds tick by, it seems to grow more and more forced. Then he suddenly takes a quick breath and blurts out all at once, and all very quickly:

“I came out to my parents four months ago and got into an argument about that and every other fucked up thing they’ve ever done to me ever and they kicked me out so I packed as much shit as I could and I’ve been couch hopping between friends or living in my car every night since January and I’m so fucking tired and hungry and half sick all the time and Taemin’s been the only one to even have the slightest idea about any of this up until right now.”

The silence that stretches between the three of them is fucking colossal. Jinki is looking at Kibum blankly, lips just barely twitching up into what Taemin recognizes immediately as his “I have no idea what you just said but I don’t want to be impolite” smile. Kibum stares blankly back and looks like his soul is dying more and more by the second. Taemin has no idea of what to say or do.

It’s a long few seconds like that, and then all three of them snap back into focus and speak at the same time.

“Uh, what?” Jinki asks.

“Oh my fucking god,” Kibum groans.

“Shit, dude, I didn’t mean you should tell him fucking _everything immediately_ ,” Taemin hisses.

“I _panicked,_ ” Kibum whines. “I didn’t _mean_ to.”

“Four _months?_ ” Jinki asks incredulously, lifting a hand to run through his hair. He takes it out quickly with a grimace and frowns at the sticky hairspray residue left on his skin, but then shakes his head and looks back to Kibum. “I had no idea, fuck--are you? Serious?”

“Why the _fuck_ would I lie about this, Jinki?”

“No, that’s not what I--” Jinki stops himself to let out a deep breath. This time when he runs his fingers through his hair, he keeps them there. “I meant, are you _okay_? How have you been coming to school still? And eating? And everything?”

“With difficulty,” Kibum says shortly. There’s another silence after that. Taemin curls his fingers into his blanket and Jinki into the back of his neck. All three of them know that was an understatement. Taemin watches Jinki’s fingers twist and rub over the loose strands at the back of his hair.

“I mean,” Jinki says. “How--why didn’t--how did--”

“Look, Jinki,” Kibum cuts him off. His voice shakes so slightly that Taemin isn’t even sure that Jinki caught it. “Just, I wasn’t supposed to tell you until _after,_ because I just. I wanna go to _prom,_ ” he says heavily. “I wanna go to this half-ass junior prom because fuck knows I’m not going to have an extra hundred and something dollars next year to blow on senior prom and I want to have _fun_ at _prom_ and I don’t want to fucking--I don’t wanna talk about this right now because I don’t want to fucking cry ten minutes before I go to prom, okay?”

“You can’t avoid all of your problems with that excuse,” Taemin mumbles.

 _“Listen,”_ Kibum snaps at him, and then pauses to take a few deep breaths. Apparently two little rants in a row is tiring. “This is only the third time,” he says. Taemin snorts; Kibum huffs at him, checks his hair one last time in the mirror, and walks out, slipping around Jinki to not mess up his suit. When he closes the door behind him, Jinki watches it for a moment, and then turns to Taemin, something not exactly accusatory but still questioning in his eyes. Taemin shrugs weakly.

“It wasn’t my shit to tell,” he says. Jinki sighs, shrugs, nods.

“True,” he says. “Is he _really_ okay, though?” he asks. “Like, he’s not falling apart or anything, right?” He glances again at the door with his lip between his teeth. Taemin shrugs again, shifting to get comfortable against his pillows.

“He is a mess, yeah,” he admits. “But he’s still managing it really well. Like, _really_ well.” Better than Taemin could ever do for himself. “I think he’s only slept in his car a handful of times and he’s getting really good at couponing.” He even bought Taemin two bags of chips he said he got fifty percent off and one extra free. Taemin doesn’t know how he did it.

“Mmmh,” Jinki hums. He moves to Taemin’s mirror to fix his hair up with a sigh. Taemin understands that feel. They both know Kibum always does too much on his own and this is a whole new level.

“I told him to tell you about it at prom and then we’d talk about it more when you all come back, just the three of us,” he says. Jinki’s eyes meet Taemin’s in the mirror and he hums again, a more disapproving noise than last time.

“Since when am _I_ the responsible, trustworthy, tell-your-most-dangerous-secrets-to one?” he asks. Taemin snorts. Since always. He was literally the first person Taemin came out to as pan and ace and everything, and he knows the other two have told him some private shit as well.

“You’re just one of those people,” Taemin tells him simply. Jinki sighs, evens out his bowtie, and straightens up.

“I guess,” he says. “The struggles of being a good person.” A surprised laugh falls out of Taemin’s lips, eyebrows raising high as Jinki gives him a smug little wink in the mirror. Holy shit.

“Shut up,” he grins, shaking his head when Jinki turns around to face him and wiggle his eyebrows. He loves when Jinki gets all cocky, to be honest. It’s good to see his normally too modest friend have some confidence.

“You’re gonna save me the crispier pizza bites, right?” he asks. Taemin nods, still smiling.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. He has at least two and a half hours before Jinki and the other three start getting tired of the dance and come back here for their weekend sleepover. He’s made a little list in his phone of what to have ready for then and it includes setting all the almost burned snacks aside for Jinki’s weird taste buds. “Have fun,” he adds.

‘We will,” Jinki says, and gives Taemin a thumbs up before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

~

“Mmmh… two sevens.”

“Bullshit.”

“Alright, _Kibum,_ listen. Every other fucking time I put down cards you call bullshit on me and I am tired--”

“Because every other fucking time you put down cards you’re _lying_ about it, Jonghyun.”

“ _You-_ -are a piece of trash and I hate you.”

Taemin snorts as Jonghyun snatches up the pile of cards and adds them to his already overflowing hand. He didn’t even flip the cards over to try to prove that he wasn’t lying. He’s so bad at this game. He takes his eyes off of his grumpy friend to look at his own hand since it’s his turn now. With everyone waiting for him, he picks out a four and a nine and puts them down in the empty middle space in their circle.

“Two eights,” he  mumbles. It goes completely unquestioned and Minho immediately puts down a nine on his other side. Taemin sniffles and rubs his nose to cover up his little smirk. He has not told the truth one time during this whole game. On the other side of the circle, Jinki cocks a brow at him as Kibum puts down his own cards. Taemin shrugs. He knows that Jinki knows. Jinki always knows. He just usually lets everyone else win because otherwise the games would all end too early. After he puts down his own cards, Jinki gets Taemin’s attention again. This time, he flicks his gaze to Kibum for a second with a pointed look. Taemin sighs shortly and shrugs again.

Prom was two nights ago and they still haven’t talked about it. Taemin can understand prom night; the other four were tired and loopy and just wanted to eat and watch bad movies until they all passed out on the living room floor. He can kind of understand Saturday as well, because Saturday was a lot of resting and baking too many treats for themselves and exploring the park across the street and didn’t really lend time to serious, in-depth talks about important shit.

Tonight, though, is Sunday night. The night before everyone goes home in the morning to spend the Monday holiday getting ready to go back to school on Tuesday. They’d been mostly just sitting around and chilling all day, talking about nothing, playing shitty board and card games. Taemin doesn’t want to push Kibum, but it’ll be hard to get him, Kibum, and Jinki relatively alone together soon without planning it now. They _need_ to talk about it today. Taemin won’t let him ignore it.

The next round of cards goes through, Jonghyun telling the truth, Taemin putting down whatever, Minho continuing his truthful streak, Kibum humming shortly before putting his next cards down, Jinki smirking at Taemin as he lies like he’s daring him to say something. Taemin grins back behind his cards and just leans back on his free hand to wait for Jonghyun to go next. He’s poking through all of his cards and pouting with his lip between his teeth; when he does take out a pair of cards and put them down, it’s obviously a lie. Taemin shakes his head fondly and waits for Kibum to call bullshit on him like usual.

The accusation never comes.

Taemin blinks, surprised, as he glances between Kibum and Jonghyun. Kibum is staring a the card pile, eyebrows furrowed, but he’s staying silent, and a slow grin of accomplishment is growing on Jonghyun’s lips. Taemin glances at Jinki next, who is also frowning at Kibum’s lack of a reaction. Huh. Oh well.

“One king,” he mumbles, picking a card at random from the end of his hand and placing it on the pile.

“Bullshit,” Minho mumbles back, frowning at his hand. Taemin blinks blandly at him, reaches over, flips the card up, and honestly can not believe how lucky it is that he actually accidentally told the truth that time. He didn’t even look at the card that he put down. Minho hisses a soft curse, picks up the pile, and fumbles to straighten it out for a moment before sighing out “one ace” and starting a new pile. Taemin taps his cards absentmindedly on his lips as he looks at Kibum and waits for him to add to the pile.

And waits.

And waits.

And as Kibum continues to stay silent, just looking at his cards, he starts to worry. This is. Strange.

“Kibummie?” Jonghyun says gently, reaching over to tap the carpet in front of him. “It’s your turn,” he says. Kibum blinks, looks up, looks around at all of them.

“Right, fuck, sorry,” he mumbles. “Kinda zoned out for a little bit.”

“Understandable,” Jinki hums, shrugging lazily. Kibum smiles quickly at him and returns his gaze to his cards, this time with focus and attention. Taemin watches his eyes flicking between his cards quickly with fondness, but then all too soon, again they go out of focus and look down at the carpet. Before he can voice his own concern at Kibum’s second silence, Kibum pushes his fanned out cards together, holds them in his lap, takes a deep breath and looks up to address the whole group.

“I’m homeless,” he says bluntly.

Minho drops his cards.

~

Taemin hums happily, pulling Minho’s blanket up over his shoulders as he curls up on his side. Nuzzling a wide smile Minho’s pillow as well, he yawns and lets his eyes slide shut. This is good. Good and lovely and comfortable. He’s so relaxed and happy and--

“Hey.” Deplorable hands sharply yank his blankies away from him and he whines, sending one crabby little hand out to search for them. Instead he gets one soft hand grabbing his and yanking him up. “We all saw you trying to escape in here,” Kibum says, booping Taemin’s cheek until he opens his eyes grumpily. “No stealing naps while the rest of us are cleaning.”

“No stealing naps, meh meh meh, I’m Kibum and I’m a big weenie,” Taemin mumbles, gathering up the blankets that Kibum dropped and holding them tightly when he feels Kibum trying to tug them away again. “I’m taking a break,” he whines, curling up small again but reaching a hand out to pat Kibum’s leg. They’d all been cleaning out one of Minho’s spare rooms all morning to turn it into a room for Kibum and he’s low on energy and sore. He used up all of his energy in the school week and now he’s spending his Saturday working even more. They haven’t even had lunch yet. This is too much for him.

“I’ve been working this whole time helping you out,” he mumbles. “I get an extra break.” He closes his eyes stubbornly and wraps himself up into a little cocoon of tiredness. A soft scoff hits the air above him. He ignores it pleasantly until a few seconds of heavy silence go by. Kibum doesn’t leave the room but he doesn’t try to pull Taemin up again either, and Taemin sighs slowly, rubbing his face against the pillows.

“Look,” he mumbles, reaching out against his guilt and slipping his hand around Kibum’s leg. “I didn’t mean it like… you’re a burden or anything,” he says. He opens his eyes to peep up at Kibum, frowning not at him but at the blank sheets in front of his face. “I was just… coming up with an excuse for being a lazy asshole.”

“Stop calling your depression being lazy,” Kibum says, poking his cheek again with a stern frown. “You’re worse than Jonghyun with that shit.”

“Yeah, well,” Taemin sighs, and shrugs and shakes his head. With the hand around Kibum’s leg he tugs gently. “Come on,” he says. “You need a break too.” Kibum tries to wiggle away, a protest on his lips, but Taemin clings to him stubbornly. “Jonghyun’s impatient ass is gonna come in here in a few minutes and make both of us get back to work anyway,” he says. “Lie down for a few minutes.”

“Mmmh,” Kibum hums, a noise that someone that didn’t know him as well would believe meant he was unsure and unwilling and debating the pros and cons of his decision. Taemin knows him though, and a slow little smirk pulls up his lips as Kibum pretends to contemplate this until Kibum scoffs and rubs his hand over Taemin’s face. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s a grin in his voice as he lays himself down next to Taemin on the bed.

“Here,” Taemin says, throwing some of the blankets over him.

“Thanks,” Kibum replies, getting comfortable on his back. Taemin wiggles to rest his head in the crook of his shoulder, curled up and cuddly and even more comfortable than before. Kibum’s breathing is even and his arm wraps around Taemin’s waist, warm and snug. On the other side of Minho’s bedroom door are the voices of the other three and occasionally Minho’s brother as they work to give Kibum a space to live. Between them, the silence is thick and comfortable.

Taemin lets his eyes slide shut again, relaxing against Kibum’s shirt. He really is way too tired. He meant to sleep in this morning but his body always wakes him up early when he has important things to do during the day. It’s kind of garbage that his body doesn’t seem to think that school is important and always fights him on weekdays, he muses, but whatever. He’s dealing with it by this nap he’s trying to take right now.

He can feel Kibum’s breathing slowing underneath him, his hand loosening around his waist and his heartbeat evening out. Kibum has to be even more tired than he is. All of the stress, the extra energy put into surviving, the skipping meals to save money thing… Taemin squeezes him gently as he nods off. He deserves a nap. He’s feeling gross and guilty about it, Taemin knows, but he still deserves it. And he’s _accepted_ that he deserves it. That part is important. He’s admitted that he needs (or “wants” help, in his words, which is good enough) help from his friends and he’s accepting it with slightly less guilty protesting than usual. It’s good. Taemin is proud.

He’s in that fuzzy in-between area of consciousness where sound fades slowly in and out before sleep hits when there’s a sudden, loud clatter and crash from outside. Kibum flinches harshly and jostles Taemin from his comfortable position; Taemin doesn’t flinch, but as the noise is followed by Minho’s loud reprimands and Jonghyun’s higher defensive replies, he curls up tight and presses his face into Kibum’s shirt with a low grumble. Damn it.

“Ugh,” Kibum sighs. He deflates slowly but Taemin can feel his heart beating a staccato against his ribcage. He sighs and pulls the blankets up over his head like he thinks it’ll block out the argument on the other side of the door.

“We’re gonna have to do all of this again in like, a month,” he sighs. Minho’s parents are coming back for the summer and they’ll have to move Kibum over to Jinki’s place for those few months instead so they don’t find out and it’ll just be a repeat of this tiring mess. Kibum snorts softly, head lolling to the side so Taemin can feel his chin against his hair.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “But. I won’t have to sleep in my car during finals.”

“True,” Taemin says. That’s pretty important.

There’s a soft knock on the bedroom door then, and then it opens slowly. The other two’s voices grow louder without the barrier. Taemin stays still as whoever it is pokes their head in.

“Hey,” It’s Jinki, “can you two--oh.” He cuts himself short, is silent for a short moment, and then shuts the door again, a soft laugh barely audible from his lips. A soft breath of amusement leaves Kibum’s nose as well and Taemin grins, poking his side.

“You pretended to be asleep, didn’t you?” he asks quietly. Kibum doesn’t answer, just pulls the blankets more on top of him with a soft sigh.

“Not dealing with that,” he mumbles. Taemin giggles quietly against his shirt. Good idea.

“You’ve dealt with a lot already,” he grins. Packing all of his clothes again, organizing his bags, listening to Jonghyun and Jinki singing along to his car radio on the way here, pushing Minho away from the mess his was making of breakfast and finishing it himself… too much. Kibum hums in agreement with Taemin’s words, but it’s not really an easy sounding hum; it’s short, unamused, kind of annoyed. It’s the hum he does whenever Taemin brings up any actual problems that he doesn’t want to talk about. In the silence that follows, Taemin rests against him and thinks of all of the actual things that he’s had to deal with over the passed months. All of it was too much from the start.

“Hey,” he mumbles. He wiggles his arm around Kibum’s chest and squeezes him gently to make sure that he’s listening. “You’ve been doing really well this whole time,” he says.

“Taem,” Kibum starts, a groan in his voice. Taemin shakes his head and pats him quickly.

“No no no, let me finish,” he says. He can’t _never_ talk about it. He has to pick _some_ time to ignore Kibum’s half assed protests, and this is apparently it. “You’ve just… done so much better than I ever could have expected,” he says. “You don’t deserve, like… any of what’s happened to you. And I’m thankful that you’re finally, like, accepting more help, but also, I’m just… really... proud of you for--”

“Oh my god,” Kibum hisses. He sits up straight, leaving Taemin to roll onto his back and watch him hide his face in his hands. “Don’t--fucking-- _stop,_ oh my god,” he breathes. Taemin watches with a slow turn from surprised to amused as he hears Kibum swallow thickly and watches him rub his palms into his eyes. “You’re gonna make me get all fucking emotional,” he grumbles. Taemin snorts, quiet laughter falling sleepily from his lips. He’s _going_ to make Kibum emotional. Like he’s not a mess already and always.

“What,” he grins, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Does this mean you’re never gonna tell me ‘thank you?’” He can’t be thankful for praise he doesn’t let Taemin give him. A short, fond chuckle leaves Kibum’s chest as he slides off of the bed and stands up straight. He runs his fingers through his hair, presses his sleeves to his eyes, fans his face for a few seconds.

“Maybe one day when I’m rich and tastefully tipsy on pomegranate wine in my sprawling hilltop mansion,” he says over his shoulder, giving Taemin a little quirk of a smile before heading to rejoin the others in the hallway. Taemin breathes out another laugh, falling back over the bed.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he calls as Kibum slips silently through the door.


End file.
